“Ryan…” she whispers.
“Tell me you don’t feel it too,” I challenge. “Tell me you don’t feel a…a rightness in yourself when we’re together. At first, I told myself it was lust. I told myself it would fade if I could just scratch that itch. But baby, it’s not fading. It just gets stronger. Every day the wanting you gets stronger. Do you not feel it too?”
“I do,” she admits, her voice small. It matches her hope. She’s not ready to dive in with both feet. Her trust burns like a weak candle on a windy day.
“One step at a time,” I say, being the strength I know she needs. “You don’t want to live at Ilmari’s house anymore, right?”
She shakes her head.
“Good, so move in here. You can have your own room if you want. Or you can sleep in my bed, and I’ll worship you like the goddess you are every day of the fucking week. Every night too,” I add with a grin. “And I’m thinking of adding a sauna out on the back deck.”
She smirks.
I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb along her soft skin. It might just be my favorite point of contact when we’re not fucking. I love the softness of her cheek. “We’re starting small. Let’s live together. No labels, no cages. Just two souls happiest together. Whatever else comes—marriage, babies, life partnerships, or a respectful parting of the ways, that door will always be open,” I say, pointing to the front door. “I will never hold you back or hold you down. I don’t need any papers or legal proof to mark what we both know is true.”
“I know,” she says, her hand splaying over my chest.
“I just want to love you,” I say. “I want to put you first. I want to see you smile every day and know I’m the reason. I want to be your person. I want to make my home in you, and I want you to make your home in me.”
“I want that too,” she says. “More than anything.”
“I told you I would never ask you to marry me, and I meant it—”
“I’ll ask,” she says, tipping up on her toes, her hands on my shoulders.
“Wait—what?” I look down at her, eyes wide.
She looks right back up at me, her gaze unwavering. “I’ll ask you. Ryan, you deserve to be asked—not right now,” she adds quickly, and we both let out a nervous laugh.
“No, yeah,” I say, nodding as if she hasn’t just punched a hole through my universe.
“My divorce isn’t even final yet,” she hedges.
“Fair,” I say, still reeling.
“And if it’s okay with you, I’d like us to just take this slow,” she goes on. “I want us to enjoy each other. No cages, no labels, right?”
“Of course,” I say, nodding like a bobblehead.
“But I will ask you, Ryan,” she says again, a smile curling her lips. “If we someday decide that a legal marriage is what we both want, then when I’m ready…when we’re ready…I’ll ask you to be my husband.”
“Are you serious right now?”
She flips my hair off my brow with gentle fingers. “It’s like what you said about soulmates. You don’t know what it means to have one until you have one. I think perhaps I was too quick to dismiss the labels of husband and wife and what they could mean to me because I hadn’t met the person who was meant to carry that title with me.” She smiles, dropping her hand away. “Ryan Puppy Langley, you’re the best person I know. You’re so kind and loving. You’re gentle, yet strong. You listen. You learn. You fight and grow. I’m in love with you, and I’d be honored to be your wife…someday…probably…” Her grins widens and there’s a twinkle in her eye. “I know that’s not the most romantic of not-proposals, but it’s as vague as I can make it.”
Joy floods through me, and then I have her in my arms. “I’m gonna need you to say that again,” I say, my face nuzzling her neck.
“What—the whole thing? Ryan, that was total word salad.”
“No, just the last part—or the second to last part—the “L” word part,” I clarify.
She laughs, her hands stroking my back. “I love you, Ryan.”
I groan. “Again.”
“Don’t get greedy,” she teases.
“Too late,” I reply, my hands drifting down to cup her perfect ass. “You know that’s my fatal flaw. I’m greedy when it comes to you. I want every kiss…” I brush my lips against hers. “Every smile…”
“They’re yours,” she replies, her face glowing with joy.
“Every orgasm,” I add with a smirk.
“There I draw the line,” she says, pushing against my shoulder. “You know how much I like playing with my toys. And you travel a lot. I can’t possibly give them all to you.”
I consider for a moment. “That’s fair. How about when I’m away, I still get to watch? We haven’t experimented with video calls yet. That could be fun.”
“Sorry, puppy. This show is live action only,” she teases, her strokes shifting from loving to seeking, her hands brushing down my abs and over my hips. “What if I promise to think of you when I come and you’re not around?”
I groan, sinking against her as I kiss her neck. “Don’t go breaking my heart—”
She stills, pushing me off her gently to hold my gaze. “Don’t break mine.”
“Never. Tess, I’m gonna be so good to you.”
“We’ll be good to each other,” she replies, kissing up my jaw. Her hands slip under my shirt to stroke the warm skin of my back.
I weave my fingers into the curly hair at her nape and give it a pull, loving the little hiss she does, the way her eyes heat as she gazes up at me like I’m the only thing she sees. Smirking down at her, I add, “And if we ever do get married, we’re having mac and cheese at our wedding.”
She laughs, her hands slipping down to cup my ass, pulling me tight against her. Then she angles her mouth up and whispers in my ear, “Make it lobster mac and cheese, and I’ll even wear white.”
It’s a gift and a promise. She’s offering me hope. I just have to trust her and love her. This woman is mine. My friend, my soulmate. She already wears my jersey and sleeps in my bed. Someday, she may even share my name. As we sink to the floor, unable to wait for more, the name rings true in my mind: Tess Langley.
My Tess. The cataclysm that came and shook me up. Now she’s mine to love. Mine to cherish. Mine to make happy for the rest of my lucky fucking life. I smile, kissing her perfect lips.
Nothing has ever felt so right.
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
My alarm goes off and I groan, rolling to my side. It’s too fucking early. But it’s game day, and I have to get up. I snatch for my phone, determined to silence it before it wakes Tess.
As soon as my fingers wrap around it, I go still. That’s not my alarm sound. It’s music. Like a ringtone. I pull my head out from under my pillow, blinking in the semidarkness as I check the screen. It’s my phone, and it’s definitely an alarm, but it’s playing the chorus of ‘Marry Me’ by Jason Derulo.
Gasping, I shut it off and roll over, totally expecting to see Tess sitting up in the bed like a no-sleep gremlin, holding out a ring box. But she’s not there. Her side of the bed is empty.
I drag a tired hand over my face as I sit up.
She’s been hinting pretty strong these last few months that she was ready to propose. She’s been making a game of it, twisting me up just to wind me back down. I’ve about reached my fucking limit. I’ve assured her I’m happy either way. We’re a year into this thing, and there’s no end in sight. I am so in love with that woman, it’s not even funny. Tess is mine.
But a promise is a promise. I’m not proposing. Ever. If she wants me, she knows where to find me.
I set my phone down and swing my legs off the side of the bed. The moment my feet touch the floor, I’m wide fucking awake. There’s a trail of red rose petals starting under my feet and leading across the bedroom, disappearing down the hall.
“Tess, you better be out there,” I shout, tiptoeing through the rose petals.
They go down the stairs and around the corner into the kitchen where—